


Silent Lucidity

by paperballoon



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AZ secret santa, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Meeting in dreams AU, Romance, dream world?, i guess, things happen differently there, title from song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperballoon/pseuds/paperballoon
Summary: In his dreams, the field is there. In his dreams, he keeps waiting, waiting for the boy with the dark hair and full lips and mysterious eyes.After Trident Base burns, dreams too burn into nightmares.or:The AU where the power of Aldnoah allows Slaine and Inaho to meet in dreams and fall in love, while they’re ignorant of their circumstances; fighting on different sides and against each other in the Second Interplanetary War.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pendulumclock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendulumclock/gifts).



> Here’s my entry for the Aldnoah Zero Secret Santa. The request was for an OrangeBat fic! I used Slaine’s POV since he was the preferred character :D 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> This fic was rather interesting and fun to write. It’s also a bit…different I suppose. But I seriously hope it’s understandable what’s going on…I would like to work more on it, since I feel that at some points it seems disproportionate and not very connected... perhaps if more ideas come this au might expand.
> 
> Anyway, fic title comes from Silent Lucidity by Queensrÿche, a song which also inspired this dream au. The ‘Part one’ poem is from Rumi—no copyright infringement intended. 
> 
> And a Happy New Year to everyone!

_Part one:_

_Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,_

_there is a field. I’ll meet you there._

 

_When the soul lies down in that grass,_

_the world is too full to talk about._

 

Vers is cold.

Vers is hostile.

The other children tease him mercilessly, call him names, and Slaine’s days are spent with him hiding and struggling to defend himself—he does not succeed, he never succeeds, thin and pale as he is, so he keeps collapsing and suffering and curling his body in defeat, tears marring his cheeks.

Each night, Slaine prepares for sleep. In his dreams, the field is there. In his dreams, he keeps waiting, waiting for that person who never arrives.

*

Years pass.

The Second Interplanetary War breaks out, and it slowly tears at Slaine’s soul, stealing away whatever Vers hasn’t already stolen from his childhood.

Under the starry sky of Tanegashima, Slaine meets Orange; Kaizuka Inaho, the UFE ace pilot, the genius tactician, the person that will later make Slaine mad with pain, that will manage to flare inside Slaine the deepest, most horrible loathing.

The night after the scars are forever carved onto his skin, the field welcomes him, the sky painted the softest, gentlest blue. Slaine lies down on the soft ground, curling his body once again, waiting, always waiting for the pain to fade away.

*

The field remains as it is; Slaine imagines colorful flowers and majestic oceans, he desperately tries and tries, but the meadow refuses to change shape. When tired from struggling, Slaine sits under the oak in the middle of the grassy area. Resting his back on the old tree, Slaine hugs his knees close to his chest and falls asleep, delving into realms dark and silent—until the laughter of his tormentors, Trillam’s gurgles as he clutched at his bleeding stomach, the crack of Cruhteo’s whip would jerk him awake.

The Second War goes on. Slaine will remember the moment he shot Inaho for the rest of his life; mad with pain and rage, he does not hesitate a second time. The bullet flies though Inaho’s left eye, killing him on spot.

That night, in Slaine’s dreams, the sky is painted a bleeding red, just like in the last moments of a dying sunset.

Slaine’s terrified gaze travels across the crimson that should be blue— clutching at his pendant, he drops on his knees, overwhelmed by a sick, terrible feeling.

He can’t even understand why.

*

After two years, rumors circulate among the Vers Counts that Kaizuka Inaho returned to the battlefield, destroying the Orbital Knights’ Kataphrakts and causing havoc to their defenses. Slaine realizes that the bullet did not cause the ultimate damage. As Count Saazbaum is explaining to him their next plans of attack, Slaine realizes that Kaizuka Inaho is still alive, and for the briefest of moments, his heart misses a beat.

That night, Slaine finds escape in the dream.

Walking up the grassy hill leading to the old oak, Slaine stops on his tracks, amazed, speechless with disbelief. A silhouette is standing next to the oak, a young man resting his palm on the tree’s bark. He turns and regards Slaine in silence.

Immense joy fills Slaine. He cannot understand why.

Slaine approaches, mesmerized, in the way one would approach an extraordinary, beautiful creature.

The boy must be around his age. His hair is the color of the tree bark, a bit ruffled from the wind. The color of his eyes reminds Slaine of cherries or perhaps dark roses, things that were long lost for him in the coldness and cruelty of Vers. ~~Inaho’s~~ skin is a bit tanned, in contrast to his own. Slaine is overwhelmed with the sudden need to place his forearm next to ~~Inaho’s~~ , see how pale his skin is next to the other boy’s.

“Why am I here?”

“I…I have no idea.” Slaine speaks, a bit unsure and shy of this new beginning, enthusiasm bubbling up his chest. “For years, I’ve waited and waited for this moment…”

 ~~Inaho~~ blinks. “Years?”

Slaine’s gaze drops. “Always…I was alone.”

“…I see.”

Slaine has the urge to smile, but he suppresses it. He steps closer, now both of them standing under the sheltering oak, watching as the wind moves through the meadow, the sun bright in the sky. Slaine’s eyelids drift shut, relishing the cool breeze. It’s the first time that the ever-silent field has come to life.

It’s amazing.

“Where are we?” ~~Inaho~~ asks, his forearm touching Slaine’s, now both standing side by side.

“I don’t know,” Slaine laughs, “But look at this!” Slaine spreads his hands wide, the landscape morphing on front of them, the green colors changing into light blue, then darker and darker, until the land becomes liquid, so that they are standing at the shore, the ocean’s waves drifting slowly up the sand, lapping at their feet.

 ~~Inaho~~ tilts his head to the side. Slaine can feel the ocean slipping out of his control; the meadow returns, and they are standing next to the oak, the green scenery unchanging, constant, the light breeze stronger, tousling their clothes.

“Hey!” Slaine starts protesting, but his protests remain unheard, as ~~Inaho~~ mutters,

“So we can change the content—no, the substance, even the physical laws of this place…simply with our thoughts? …Ah, I see. This is a dream. Of course.”

*

When Slaine wakes up the next day, he notices that Harklight has prepared fruits for his breakfast. His gaze lingers on the oranges. He is suddenly reminded of the ocean.

“Milord?”

 “It’s nothing, Harklight-san.”

*

Slaine is no longer alone. ~~Inaho~~ is always there, under the oak tree, waiting for him.

They exchange memories, wishes, desires. They share dreams. Slaine keeps showing Inaho places of the world he traveled: the snow-covered, majestic mountains, the scorching dessert landscapes, the exotic fruits and soups and the sandwiches with strawberry jam; and if once or twice Slaine’s eyes become moist while he remembers such things, ~~Inaho~~ doesn’t comment on it.

In exchange, ~~Inaho~~ shows Slaine the world from his view, a world consisting of atoms and blue skies and fractal galaxies, of kat’s maneuvers and physics, and Slaine is amazed, because ~~Inaho’s~~ imagination is unique and gifted and breathtaking— ~~Inaho~~ has all the answers to questions Slaine spent hours, as a child, wondering about, ~~Inaho~~ is always eager to explain and share with him the beauty of worlds Slaine never knew even existed.

When Slaine asks of ~~Inaho~~ to show him his home, ~~Inaho~~ is reluctant to respond. Slaine expects the field to change into views of cherry blossoms, misty valleys and forgotten temples, hidden away into the mountains. But soon the sun burns brighter and warmer than ever before, and the meadow changes shape and shows a kitchen, and an older, dark-haired girl who keeps munching on her toast- Slaine suspects it’s her breakfast- while she complains about a bus she won’t be able to catch. The scene changes, showing a school yard and friends laughing, calling for ~~Inaho~~ to join them in their game.

 ~~Inaho~~ is smiling, and Slaine’s breath catches in his throat.

(For the first time in his life, Slaine understands it, what ~~Inaho~~ is silently trying to show him; if Slaine could assign a word to that warm, embracing emotion, he would choose the word _family_.)

*

“Who are they?”

“The children who lived with me in the orphanage.”

“Why…are they crying?”

“Because I broke their arms with stones.”

“B-But…why?”

 ~~Inaho~~ is silent. “…They annoyed me.”

Slaine pulls his gaze away from the distressing sight.

Later, much later, when ~~Inaho~~ shows him his younger self lying on the ground, protecting his head from kicks and punches, Slaine gasps and rushes and tries to take younger ~~Inaho’s~~ hand, he tries and tries in vain—the scene dissolves, and they find themselves on the field, the sky grey and sunless, the air so cold it makes them shiver.

 ~~Inaho~~ is sad.

Slaine concentrates and the sky clears, they are now lying side by side on a grassy hill. Slaine turns his head to the left and concentrates harder, and now a destroyed moon illuminates ~~Inaho’s~~ profile.

Alpha Centauri, ~~Inaho’s~~ favorite star system, shines brighter than ever before.

“Thank you.” ~~Inaho~~ whispers, and takes his hand. Slaine feels a blush creeping up his neck. He doesn’t understand why.

*

Slaine imagines snow. White, heavy flakes fall softly in the ground, until everything is frozen. He then takes ~~Inaho’s~~ hand in his and smiles, “Come with me!”

 ~~Inaho~~ complains that he is cold at first, until Slaine pulls him along, laughing, silencing him successfully, and eventually they enjoy it like little children.

After the last snowball fight, Slaine’s cheeks are flushed with effort. He loses, and admits it, always laughing.

“So I won.” ~~Inaho~~ turns and smiles at him, and Slaine’s heart loses a beat. He opens his mouth, closes it, words suddenly failing him.

“You’re blushing.”

“I-I know…”

“You look…” Inaho approaches him, serious now, runs his hand over Slaine’s hair, catching a few strands that fell on Slaine’s forehead—Slaine inhales sharply. As if realizing their warm proximity, Inaho steps back. 

“Let’s…do something else.”

*

In the dream, the truth is always the answer. They cannot lie, being emerged too deep in the subconscious mind to do so—or that’s ~~Inaho’s~~ theory, at least.

The field is sunny and full of flowers.

“Who gave you these?” ~~Inaho~~ asks, placing his fingertips near Slaine’s nape. Near the raised, red linear scars, disappearing under Slaine’s shirt.

Slaine bows his head, unconsciously offering more of his skin to Inaho. “Count Cruhteo.” he whispers.

 ~~Inaho’s~~ palm is now resting, warm, on the side of his neck, and Slaine shudders from the pleasantness of it.

“After…after my Sky Carrier was shot down by an enemy—” Slaine begins, and struggles and yearns to stay silent, but he can’t, and soon the words betray him, slipping out of his mouth, jagged and painful like the whip—the branches are shaking, the sky darkens, black clouds gathering in the horizon, slipping forward and crossing the skies towards them in a terrifying speed.

 ~~Inaho~~ holds him close.

When the sky clears and they are lying on the grass again, ~~Inaho~~ always holding Slaine in his arms, a flock of rare birds crosses the blue sky overhead, taking away Slaine’s last sobs.

Slaine knows, he was not the one to create it.

*

When Slaine Troyard meets Kaizuka Inaho in the battlefield, one of the first things he says to him is, “So you’re alive, Kaizuka Inaho.”

The words feel fake and bitter as he utters them, but Slaine doesn’t let that deter him. He charges and attacks the annoying UFE pilot with a ferocity that comes as natural to him as breathing.

*

Slaine realizes that something has changed when he returns to the dream and ~~Inaho~~ turns and notices him, and the corner of his mouth pulls up into his wistful smile.

Seeing ~~Inaho~~ smiling like that hurts somewhere inside Slaine’s heart. Before they know it, they are in a garden full of red flowers.

Red roses.

 ~~Inaho~~ blinks, then stares at him. “Why red?”

“I…” Slaine begins, completely at loss. “I can’t—understand it, either…”

The tense line of ~~Inaho’s~~ lips softens into another smile. “I like their red colors.”

“I hate orange.” Slaine blurts out then, not even knowing why. ~~Inaho’s~~ smile drops.

The garden withers, slowly, flowers falling on the ground, reduced to dust. They return to the field.

*

When Slaine comes up with the idea to offer roses to the Princess if she ever wakes up, something hidden deep inside him tells him that blue is her color, that calm and quiet blue, of impossible miracles. The red colors, flaming-hot and loving, already belong to someone else.

*

“Why are those Martians here?”

“I…I don’t…”

The Vers officers and servants laugh.

“Go away. Leave him alone.”

“No—it’s alright. Come back.”

But ~~Inaho~~ doesn’t listen to him. He starts approaching them, the ones who, with viciousness and bruises, used to teach Slaine how a Terran dog should behave.

“No, come back! _Orange!”_

And Slaine runs and runs through the labyrinth of endless metal corridors, he keeps running through Cruhteo’s Landing Castle, through the cold halls of the Moon Base, but ~~Inaho~~ is gone, ~~Inaho~~ is lost, and Slaine can’t stop chasing after him, can’t stop running as fast as he can, shouting, “Orange! _Orange!_ ”

Slaine stops, panting, but they spot him, the Martian uniforms, and true terror makes his skin shiver. 

A near-sob comes from his throat, and he can only stand, enemies circling him like laughing hyenas, ready to attack—

*

Slaine wakes up with a start, drops of sweat trickling down his cheeks. No, tears.

He remembers dreaming of Kaizuka Inaho, and he remembers being extremely upset. He can’t remember why.

*

Each time they meet, ~~Inaho~~ is always there, always waiting for him under that old oak.

They are sitting on the field again, their imagination spent and satisfied from traveling into places magical and dark and full of pain and joy and laughter.

“I want to kiss you.” ~~Inaho~~ says.

Slaine’s breathing sputters. ~~Inaho~~ is looking at him, waiting. Slaine nods, his breaths now fast and short. He almost jerks when ~~Inaho~~ touches his shoulder from the side. ~~Inaho’s~~ fingers linger, then travel toward Slaine’s neck, and Slaine closes his eyes, sighing.

Slaine’s fingers fumble helplessly against the blades of grass when their lips make contact. ~~Inaho’s~~ lips are softer, much softer than what he expected. Pleasure tingles through Slaine’s body, spreading inside him along with a sweet, warm feeling.

 ~~Inaho’s~~ dark red eyes seek his gaze, a bit shy, and Slaine finds himself smiling. 

 ~~Inaho~~ smiles back.

*

Each time they meet, they kiss with all the time in the world. Lying on the soft, cool grass, Slaine next to ~~Inaho~~ , arms around each other, they kiss and the world around them becomes alive, thriving with happiness.  

*

Slaine is lying on the field with his fingers laced, resting his head on them, trying to remember. Golden-blue galaxies are moving slowly over their heads— ~~Inaho~~ is obsessed with physics, especially astrophysics, that much Slaine has understood.

Slaine is bored, so he concentrates, hard. The memory is misty like that snowy day, but the moment Slaine grasps it, he realizes how fragile it is, he realizes how much he has forgotten. The memory is like a badly interwoven thread; Slaine has to, very very carefully, untangle it and spread it free, unleash it in the air. 

Woods are now surrounding them, tall, dark pine trees, the ground white with the freshly fallen snow. ~~Inaho~~ realizes it’s a memory, and despite his ever- present curiosity, he doesn’t break the tranquility of the moment. It is not cold; Slaine closes his eyes, concentrating harder. The temperature drops, mist fills the air, making the dark green of the woods hazy. Slaine grits his teeth. The silhouette of the animal slowly materializes.

 ~~Inaho~~ is lying next to him, propped on his elbows, watching as the elk with the branched, majestic horns slowly steps forward, appearing through the mist. It approaches them cautiously, only to stop about twenty steps away. Its hoof lands twice on the ground, in contemplation of any possible danger. The elk turns its long neck gracefully to the side…the antlers split the mist, now resembling ominous tree branches. Slaine hears ~~Inaho’s~~ long inhale. Both watch as the elk raises its head and regards its surroundings with black, round eyes. It blinks, once.

“Is this your doing…?” ~~Inaho~~ whispers, and just from that, Slaine knows how impressed he is.

Slaine stays silent, because the elk slowly turns its head and locks its gaze on them, and the same vivid feeling rushes through Slaine’s veins, the same joy he felt ages ago, back on that misty, snowy landscape.

“It’s an elk.” ~~Inaho~~ whispers, “A male elk. They shed their antlers each year.”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Slaine whispers back, eyes focused on the mist and the graceful creature.

“Yes.” ~~Inaho~~ says, turning to look at him, everything else forgotten. “You.”

 _What do you mean,_ Slaine burns to ask, and the moment vanishes. The deer dematerializes into mist, as quietly as it appeared.

Both ignore the looming darkness of the woods.

“Tell me about it.” ~~Inaho~~ is sitting now, eyes red and curious, with a smile that makes Slaine’s breath catch.

“I was…six years old…traveling across Canada because of my father’s research.” Slaine starts, and truths slip again out of his mouth; his father’s busy life, his own never ending loneliness. ~~Inaho~~ takes his hand and laces their fingers together. So Slaine clears his throat, cheeks a bit red now, and continues. “One morning…I slipped out of the house and started playing in the snow. I saw the deer at the edge of the woods.” Slaine smiles. “I think it was scared of me and run away. It was such a beautiful creature…”

Slaine closes his eyes, still smiling. He fills the skies above with his favorite orange-purple of a sunset, but when he opens his eyes ~~Inaho~~ has turned his newborn sunset into a sky full of stars.

“Not again!”

“I was faster.”

Slaine rolls his eyes.

“My turn now.” ~~Inaho~~ says, and the stars arrange themselves into constellations.

*

That night after Slaine had soaked his hands with blood yet again, he turns and turns, restless in his bed, until he falls asleep.

The moment he meets ~~Inaho~~ , Slaine’s knees give away.

 ~~Inaho~~ frowns, panic barely stretching his features. “No. What—?”

“Hold me, just hold me.” Slaine manages to choke out. It’s the truth.

 ~~Inaho~~ stays silent, but he kneels too and his embrace is firm and tight.

“Tighter…p-please.”

 ~~Inaho~~ obeys.  “What happened?”

“My adopted father…I led him…to a trap…” The words won’t come out, the grief is too much, but as always, the truth soon slips out.

 ~~Inaho~~ doesn’t talk. He holds Slaine tighter, pulls him closer to his warm body. Rain starts falling; soft and in a weak pitter-patter at first, but soon dark, ominous clouds gather across the skies and the thunderstorm breaks out, the wind howling furiously, shaking the grass and the branches of the trees, the rumbling thunder almost making the ground tremble, sharing the shudders that rack Slaine’s body, the tremor of Slaine’s voice.

A kataphrakt is kneeling over them, protecting them from the rain—an orange kataphrakt. Pain jabs at Slaine’s heart when he notices the color. He clutches onto ~~Inaho~~ and starts crying harder, and not even ~~Inaho’s~~ panicked whispers can soothe him.

*

The next time Slaine returns, ~~Inaho~~ is gone.

Slaine walks through fields, forests and mountains, places he created with ~~Inaho~~ , places which are now crumbling like sand castles, ashes pooling at his feet.

Slaine stops next to the ocean, sick to his stomach, unable to believe it.

The cries of the gulls circling above sound increasingly like screams, and the dark cliffs looming behind the beach are suddenly menacing, full of impending agony.

Slaine is alone.

*

After Trident Base burns, dreams too burn into nightmares.

“Where are you.” Slaine murmurs, in pain, curling into a ball, the whip striking his flesh again and again. “Where have you gone, where are you…?”

The field is withered and rotten, never the same again.

*

_Part Two: Silent Lucidity_

Years pass.

In his dreams, the field is there. In his dreams, he keeps waiting, waiting for the boy with the dark hair and full lips and mysterious eyes.

The war ends, and Slaine is hated, blamed and imprisoned. Again, guards teach him with kicks and vehemence how a Versian dog should be silent and behave.

He sleeps and sleeps, only to be awakened and forced to play chess matches with the one he abhors; Kaizuka Inaho. Kaizuka’s fake concerns for his weight and health make Slaine snarl his lip in disgust each time they have those conversations.

Kaizuka keeps returning, keeps talking to him, keeps trying to make everything better when Slaine wouldn’t care otherwise.

When tired from running away from his nightmares, Slaine does as he did when he was younger: he sits under the withered oak, resting his back on the old tree and falls asleep, into that dark and silent world he visited so often as a child. Only this time, there is nothing there to wake him up; Slaine sleeps and sleeps, his sleep darkening and emptying his mind each night that goes by.

*

Slaine wakes up one day and realizes he is lying in the infirmary, white and coarse linen sheets hugging his thin body.

“You are awake…good.”, Kaizuka says, sitting at the edge of the bed. His eye is bloodshot, face pale. Strands of his brown hair are falling on his forehead. He seems relieved, tension dissipating from his hunched shoulders.

Slaine turns on his other side, dismissing him.

“You are coming to live with me.”, Kaizuka’s calm voice resonates in the small, sterile room. “You were asleep for more than 24 hours and no one informed me of…the situation. This environment is not healthy for you. I have already persuaded both the UFE and Vers governments that I am capable of taking care of you. I came here to ask if you wish—”

“Do whatever you want.” Slaine snaps, “Now leave.”

“…Do you need anything else?”

 _I want my dreams back,_ Slaine thinks, bitter and resentful, before sleep claims him once again.

*

This time, the field is real. Tangible, not like the dream. On the small hill grows an ash, not an oak. There is a house now behind the hill, made from red bricks and wood, with large windows that let in the sun in their small living room, where Slaine keeps lying on the couch, half-reading, half-dozing off during the day. He is weak and thin, and his chest hurts each time he tries to climb the stairs to their bedrooms.

He doesn’t care.

The first time Inaho accidentally catches him in the middle of changing, there is an awkward silence, and then Inaho says, “They aren’t ugly. The scars.” A pause. “Tanegashima was…a mistake.”

Slaine doesn’t know what to answer.  He doesn’t understand how Inaho made the connection between Tanegashima and the scars. But he doesn’t care, or at least that’s what he tells himself in the dark, silent hours of the long night, where he tries to fall asleep and escape in black dreams.

*

Kaizuka Inaho’s presence is unbearable in the first few days, but as time goes by Slaine finds himself stealing glances when Kaizuka isn’t looking, wondering why Inaho is always eager— in his own, silent way—to take care of him.

When Inaho bathes him the days he realizes Slaine is unable to do it himself, Slaine closes his eyes, for once being able to concentrate on his surroundings, feel the warm rivulets of water cascade slowly down his back, the careful, comforting way Inaho rubs the sponge back and forth between his shoulder blades. Slaine, sitting on the tub, hugs his knees and waits until Inaho puts the sponge away, asks him if everything is alright, and then starts pouring water over his hair, washing it too.

He hates himself for his weakness, and for finding comfort in Inaho’s gestures.

But the seasons go by and slowly, steadily, Slaine starts looking forward to waking up early each day, meeting Inaho in the kitchen and listening to his stories while they prepare breakfast together. Inaho talks about fields and oceans and mountains, about deer hiding in the mist and constellations, and Slaine feels mysteriously drawn to it all.

*

Slaine wakes up, heart racing. _It was just a dream,_ he reminds himself, shivering. _Just a nightmare._

The house is dark and silent.

Slaine turns on the light, clutching at his pendant through his shirt. His throat aches; he is thirsty.

Quick footsteps echo on the corridor outside, and his door is torn open, a slightly disheveled Inaho is his orange-checkered, long-sleeved pajamas stepping inside the room.

Slaine stammers, “What—what do you want?”

Inaho blinks. “You…made a sound.”

“Sound?”

“You screamed. It was…distressing.”

“I-It was just a dream.” Slaine echoes. He gets up, shivering a bit since he’s only wearing a T-shirt and his underwear, his bare arms and legs now feeling a bit cold.

Inaho averts his gaze, looking at his own socks, not at Slaine any longer. “Do you…want something to drink? We have fresh milk—and tea, of course— or you could pour some tea in your milk.”

 _What’s wrong with him?_ “Pour tea in the milk? I’ve never heard of this before.”

That makes Inaho meet his gaze. “Milk.” Inaho closes his eye. “No—what I mean is…” His cheeks are slightly red. It’s the first time he sees Kaizuka Inaho blush. “You can put milk in your tea.”

Slaine dismisses that as tiredness, since it must be about 4am in the morning. “Orange, are you tired? …I woke you up, didn’t I?”

Instead of answering that, Inaho says, “You still haven’t told me what you want. I can bring it here, unless you prefer to drink it in the kitchen. With me…”

Slaine wants to say no, but his throat is sore and Inaho’s offer is…kind. Slaine sighs and accepts.

*

A few years go by.

Sometimes, in the long afternoons when they are doing something together, like playing chess or cooking or watching a movie, Inaho will rest his cheek on his palm and gaze at him, calm and patient as always.  Slaine will feel a trill shiver rushing through his body at such moments, and something unspoken and intense will hang in the room between them, stealing the air from Slaine’s lungs until he will force himself to look away, cheeks flushed.

*

Inaho steps onto the balcony, carrying an orange tray. Slaine lifts his head, the rising wind ruffling his hair.

“Again?”

“I know you are hungry, Bat.”

“Y-Yes! But does it have to be _eggs_?”

Inaho pauses, looks down at the scrambled eggs, then looks at him again. “I see.” Inaho is patient, so patient, whether it is cooking for Slaine or asking him questions about his life or washing Slaine’s back the days Slaine feels dizzy and doesn’t have the strength to do it, Inaho is always patient, and it breaks Slaine’s heart.

“I can eat them, if you don’t want to. But you need to eat, too. What do you want me to cook for you? Or would you prefer to eat fruit? I could drive to the village and buy strawberries—”

Slaine sighs, “J-Just give me the eggs, Orange.”

Inaho blinks, then hands him the tray and sits on the chair next to Slaine, talking about astrophysics, rattling on about a newly discovered planet. The flowers below in the meadow are dancing in the breeze. The sun is bright, warming his skin, so Slaine eats the eggs (they are delicious) and falls asleep.

*

The colors have returned, grass and flowers green and radiant. He’s in the dream again. He presses his lips together to keep himself from crying out.

Slaine rushes up the hill.

Kaizuka Inaho, in his blue jacket and black eyepatch, is waiting for him.

“You?!” He almost screams in rage and frustration, “It’s you?!”

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” Inaho says, carefully. “I knew it too, all these years. I merely realized a few months after we started living together.”

 “It can’t—it can’t be true.” The person who knows about him more than Slaine himself—Kaizuka Inaho.

“Do you love me?”

_“What?”_

“Do you?”

“You are so cruel, Kaizuka. Asking that here. So _cruel_.”

“Slaine—“

Slaine tries to swallow the word, he wouldn’t care if he choked on it. _“Yes_.”

Inaho exhales. “Good.”

“Tell me one reason why you think that’s _good_.”

“Because the feeling is mutual.”

Slaine’s mouth opens slightly in disbelief.

“I love you.” Inaho says quickly, “I’ve loved you for years.”

“W-What?”

*

Slaine wakes up, heart racing, he is on the balcony, still in shock. Shooting stars are falling from the darkened skies. Inaho hasn’t moved, sleeping on the chair next to him, until his eyelid flutters open.

Slaine rubs at his face, fully awake now, “It’s _you_. I can’t—and why…why do I remember everything, now…? Of all times, why _now_?!”

Inaho seems…calm. Relaxed. “I don’t know, Slaine. I spent years trying to remember…those dreams.”

Slaine whispers, “Was it true…what you said to me in the dream?”

Inaho clears his throat, cheeks a bit red. “You know it is. We were always unable to lie there.”

Slaine closes his eyes. Something warm touches his face, so he opens them to meet Inaho’s gaze. Inaho his cupping his cheek, his thumb resting on the corner of Slaine’s mouth.

The truth crashes onto him like the cruel, stubborn waves crash onto the rocks of a shore, like tears overflowing and running down his cheeks.

The smile drops from Inaho’s face, replaced by worry. “Slaine? Slaine, don’t—“

Slaine does, however. Because Inaho loves him, and it’s always the truth, and it makes Slaine’s chest heave with a sob, because he doesn’t deserve this. He never deserved any of this.

Inaho hugging him in reality is different than in dreams. Inaho is hesitant, and awkward with his arms, as if not knowing where to put them, the chair a bit narrow and uncomfortable for both of them, but that doesn’t stop Slaine from resting his face against Inaho’s chest, feeling Inaho breathe, feeling Inaho’s heartbeat, steady enough to lull him to a temporary calmness.

“I thought…I had already lost what I loved most.” Slaine whispers.

“In the Moonbase.” Inaho adds.

“No. In my nightmares.” Slaine tightens his embrace, because he has difficulty believing this is even happening. Kaizuka Inaho…loving Slaine Troyard. Slaine almost smiles from the madness of it.

Inaho stays silent for a while. “What happened in your dreams while we were…apart?”

So Slaine tells him, and then Inaho explains about his theory, of the dreams occurring in Aldnoah, since they both acquired activation factors through the Vers royalty. They ponder much on the subject, and also on why they never met anyone else in the dreams. But soon the conversation topics change into lighter subjects.

They go on for hours and hours until they witness the sunrise, bright and yellow and full of hope.

*

After a few days and a few nights where they slept side by side, they realize that they no longer meet in the dream.

“I don’t care.” Slaine says to Inaho while they are strolling, hand in hand, through the field and the flowers. “I no longer need those dreams.” _You’re here with me,_ he wants to add, but suppresses the almost confession.

“Forever.” Inaho says in a low, soft voice, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a happy smile.

Slaine blushes, wondering since when can Inaho read him so well.

*

The TV screen is the only source of light, irregularly illuminating the living room. They are both sitting on the couch, watching a movie about a prison escape.

“I want to kiss you.” Slaine whispers to Inaho that night, and he wants to blame the fire crackling softly in their fireplace for his flushed cheeks.

Inaho stills. _He is nervous too_ , Slaine thinks as he leans forward, because he can tell from the curling of Inaho's fingers on his knees, from the catch of Inaho's breath just before their lips connect—but the kiss happens and Inaho's mouth is warm, it’s so warm, Slaine sighs as their lips part.

Slaine rests his cheek on Inaho’s shoulder, heart beating madly from what he just managed to do—until Inaho cups Slaine’s face, pulling him closer, and from that moment on the boundaries of dream and reality become a blur. Inaho’s lips brush slowly over his own, and a feeling so intense and sweet fills Slaine, intoxicating him in ways he has never experienced in the real world.

They separate, looking into each other’s eyes.

“That’s…enough for today.” Slaine whispers, slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed.

Inaho is smiling.  

*

The second time they kiss happens the next sunny morning in the kitchen. Slaine is preparing breakfast, with Inaho standing next to him, fumbling with his tablet. Slaine asks of Inaho to hand him over a spoon; which Inaho does, only to slowly stroke Slaine’s wrist with his thumb as he hands it over.

Something hot thuds through Slaine’s body like a second pulse. The spoon falls with a clatter on the kitchen floor. Inaho’s fingers close around his wrist and when Slaine swallows and nods, Inaho is desperately pressing his mouth on Slaine’s, and Slaine lets out a sound and surrenders to it, the kitchen counter digging into his back, his arms around Inaho’s shoulders, the kiss turning into something breathless and fierce.

It is Slaine that takes Inaho’s hand and leads him to his bedroom.

*

They lie together in each other’s arms afterwards, silent and content, watching how the moonlight paints the red of Slaine’s scars into silver.  

“Thank you.” Slaine whispers.

Inaho’s silence betrays his surprise. “…For what?”

“For always…always coming back for me. Both in dreams…and out of them.”

Inaho rests his cheek on Slaine’s shoulder, and starts whispering again all the truths he has told Slaine in their dreams.

And this time, Slaine whispers them back.


End file.
